


Day 7 - Dressed/Half Dressed

by WorkInProgress84



Series: NSFW Challenge [7]
Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Domestic smut, Hand Jobs, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-21
Updated: 2019-05-21
Packaged: 2020-03-09 02:23:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 873
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18907585
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WorkInProgress84/pseuds/WorkInProgress84
Summary: Sometimes you just want to write some domestic smut between your two favourite revolutionaries to imagine them together and happy.





	Day 7 - Dressed/Half Dressed

Enjolras dragged his feet into the kitchen, still sleep-rumpled and wondering why mornings existed at all, but the sight that greeted him answered his question in part. He had to stop and look.

The sun was still rising, streaming across Grantaire’s naked back in warm orange hues.  
Music was coming out of the little radio Grantaire kept on the kitchen island as he did the dishes, bobbing his head and humming along to a song Enjolras vaguely recognised. 

Enjolras didn’t even try to curb the warm feeling that spread through him: the perfect domesticity, the ease with which Grantaire fit into Enjolras’ daily life, how he filled its every nook like their lives were two pieces of the same puzzle, it all amazed and humbled Enjolras. 

The song changed for a slower, sultrier rhythm. Grantaire’s hips started swaying to it, the movement made even more sensual by how little he was wearing at the moment. He wasn’t naked but he might as well have been: the cream-coloured boxer briefs left little to the imagination. 

Soon enough, the whole picture had Enjolras’s mouth watering, his entire body waking up to Grantaire’s. He couldn’t quite fight the urge to get closer, and he needed to show his boyfriend exactly how he affected him.

The splashing water and the music muffled his approach, and Grantaire startled badly enough to drop of a plate when Enjolras’ hands curled around his hips. 

“Jesus Christ, Enj!” he yelped.

Enjolras chuckled a little as he plastered himself to his boyfriend’s back, enjoying his sun-warmed skin as the rays now heated him through his pyjamas. He attached his mouth to Grantaire’s shoulder and let his hands roam, travelling from his hips to climb up his spine, going back down his arms before treading the same path the other way, skirting the ticklish spots so Grantaire wouldn’t headbutt him by accident - again. He’d learned the hard way.

Grantaire seemed happy enough to let him do as he pleased, still humming and faintly swaying, sweeping Enjolras in his rhythm. Grantaire rolled his eyes when Enjolras called him enticing and beguiling, but he truly was.

He softly hummed his pleasure when Enjolras’s fingertips brushed against his nipples. Over his shoulder, Enjolras saw the washing had considerably slowed down and he grinned against Grantaire’s shoulder. He continued exploring, relearning the shape of this perfect man, the slight curve of his belly, the trail of hair that pointed down, down to-

“Are we feeling a bit frisky this morning?” Grantaire asked slyly, turning his head to try and catch him in a kiss. The angle was all wrong, though, and he only managed to brush against his forehead.

Enjolras didn’t bother replying: one of his hands sliding underneath the briefs’ waistband was answer enough. He delighted in the punched out gasp that came out of Grantaire’s mouth when he wrapped his hand around his half-erect length, and Grantaire stopped swaying altogether. He also stopped washing the dishes.

“Don’t stop,” Enjolras said, barely above a whisper.

“Wha-?” Grantaire stuttered, already out of it, so delightfully easy for him.

“Go on, the dishes won’t wash themselves.”

“You’re kidding, right?”

“I’ll make it worth your while,” he promised as he dragged his thumb over Grantaire’s slit.

That did it.

Grantaire went back to the cleaning, his movements sluggish as Enjolras got him to full hardness. His hips hitched up of their own accord, arching away from Enjolras who fought not to lose contact, an erotic rodeo he intended on winning. With a hand curled around his cock and the other fiercely grabbing onto all the flesh that was on display, it felt like he was winning. Grantaire’s noises, the way he kept on fumbling whatever utensil he was handling, that felt like a first prize, a medal.

And when he started assaulting the column of Grantaire’s throat, his teeth sinking into the tendons, and Grantaire groaned his loadest groan yet, Enjolras soared, his head reeling. He wasn’t even hard and yet his own pleasure at doing this for Grantaire was making him dizzy. He soothed the bite with little licks of tongue and then moved on to his earlobe, nibbling at it as he stroked Grantaire’s cock relentlessly with the sure, strong grip he knew Grantaire favoured, pitching him towards a fast gratification. 

Enjolras’s free hand clutched at Grantaire’s pectoral, nails first, and Grantaire threw his head back onto his shoulder and let go of the sponge to claw at Enjolras’s pyjama pants, soaking them with soapy water. Enjolras sank his teeth in Grantaire’s neck again, readjusted his grip on his length to an even firmer one and Grantaire was gone, his orgasm shooting out of him.

Enjolras felt it run down his fingers and hummed in satisfaction along with Grantaire, milking the last of his orgasm until his boyfriend hissed. The radio was still playing in the background, forgotten.

“Sorry, you looked so beautiful dancing in the morning light, I couldn’t help myself.”

“I’m glad you’re apologizing because that was definitely unacceptable,” Grantaire replied as he finally turned around to kiss him properly, his tongue immediately demanding entrance. “In fact,” he said once he’d detached from Enjolras’s lips, “as penance you should finish the dishes.”

“Keep dreaming, love.”


End file.
